


The Red Fang Pirates

by Qurinas



Category: Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-05
Updated: 2003-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qurinas/pseuds/Qurinas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siri is undertaking her first mission at the behest of her Master.  She quickly learns that not everything is like it is in holodramas and there are real dangers out there and real consquences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Siri's Mission

**Author's Note:**

> This story was used as a character introduction for an online  
> RPG. It is told in the 1st person for that reason (as it is the  
> format of the game). Chapter 1 is told from Siri's POV. Chapter 2 is told from the Temple's Hanger Chief POV.

I stood in the observation lounge of the corvette Blood Asp, a ship that belonged to the Red Fang Pirates. The same group I had infiltrated almost eight months ago and the ship I was stationed to very shortly thereafter. Turning my attention back to the view port, I saw the lush green planet of Ylesia growing larger as we approached, the same planet where my journey had begun months earlier.

The circumstances that surrounded my infiltrating the gang were fairly simple. The Jedi council, at the behest of the Supreme Chancellor, wished for someone to look into the gang since they were suspected of dealing in things much more sinister than a few smuggled goods.

With help from my Master, Adi Gallia, and a few others affiliated with her, they arranged an identity for me as a tug pilot. Since, like most other Padawans, I had a significant amount of flight training it was easy to learn the basics of flying a tug. Plus, with what I knew of ships and basic maintenance I could add my talents there as well.

My cover worked perfectly and soon I was flying one of the tugs loading and offloading nearly every variety of contraband in the galaxy. It was often difficult to live in the close quarters of the ship with the scum that would work for such a gang but, for the most part, I managed to stay away from them. The one exception being a low ranking gang officer named Lodar Daig.

He was what some would consider a dashing figure, using the romantic ideals of a pirate instead of the ugly truth of spice, slaves and murder. He was at least twenty years my elder. His black hair, which he wore long and loose was starting to gray, especially at the temples. His dark brown eyes would trouble me when their gaze fell upon me. His features were pleasant enough, even with the scars earned in a life of bar fights and piracy.

However, I wanted nothing to do with him. Even if I would consider becoming close to someone, a thought that is unlikely at best, it would hardly be with a spice-addicted slaver. Much to my dismay, no matter how blatant the hint, he never seemed to get it. Every time ours paths happened to cross he always had a crass comment, which he punctuated with a smack to my buttocks.

To avoid a scene, I always just gave him a frosty look for him to ignore and continued about my business. 'But after today,' I thought to myself happily, 'I won't have to tolerate it anymore. And he'll be on prison planet with the rest of these criminals.'

Staring at the planet looming in front of me, I knew today was the day I would escape this wretched ship. My plan was a simple one of only three steps, most of the work would need to be done in the corvette's engineering section.

First, I would use the comm station to transmit the huge data file describing all the illicit acts I had seen or found evidence of before sabotaging the system to make it more difficult for the ship to inform others within the gang something was amiss when I tried to make my escape. Second, I would then move to the engineering section of the corvette to sabotage the sublight drive. I would arrange it so there would be a delay in the failing of the drive. By the time those tasks were completed, it would be about time for me to report for my shift flying the tug.

If I timed everything correctly, the ship's engines would fail approximately the time I would need to deviate from my normal approach to the planet's cargo facility. I planned to fly the tug, as fast as the crate would plummet, to an area two hundred and fifty kilometers from the area designated Colony One by the planet's crime lord Zavval the Hutt.

The transport I would use to get off planet, in the form of a Z-95MK1 Headhunter, lay hidden the planet's thick woods and swamps. I had used the fighter to bring myself to the planet to join my new ship and crew. To the best of my knowledge the ship had not been discovered. If it had, I would be in for a very interesting stay on planet while I awaited rescue.

The Z-95MK1 that was assigned to me was a brand new starfighter type. This was one of the first production models and was given to the Jedi Temple as a gift from the SubPro Corporation. I didn't have too much of a chance to put the new fighter through its' paces. However, with what little maneuvering I did, I was thoroughly convinced that the fighter was superior in speed and mobility to any I had encountered.

I grabbed my tool bag, which had everything I would need to sabotage the ship. Making sure the bag had the datapad containing the information I would need to transmit to the Republic. The tool bag also contained my hidden weapon. I had fitted a fake head onto my lightsaber's hilt to make it appear as an over-sized hydrospanner to anyone who did not examine it too closely. The only other weapon I carried was a small vibro-dagger on my tool belt, for that was all I was allowed.

It was regulation aboard ship that only officers could carry blasters. I assumed there were many reasons for this, ranging from decreasing the risk of mutiny to making sure drunk or spiced pirates didn't spend their free time using their shipmates as target practice.

With a resolve to get off the cursed ship, I began the walk from the communal crew quarters where I slept to the engineering section. Since the ship was one that flew in deep space, it ran on Coruscant Standard Time. Looking at my chrono is was 0200 Hours, which meant most people were asleep and the crew was running on minimum staffing.

The doors slid open to engineering and I gave a quick look around. There was only one engineer on duty a man I didn't know particularly well, named was Keell. Looking at him it was obvious that he was normally on another shift, his eyes had huge bags under them and he looked as if he would fall asleep on his feet.

"Good morning," I said. "I have a work order here to service the subspace drive." I fished in my pockets and pulled out a small data pad that I had dummied a false order on. I handed it to him and he glanced at it so quickly I could have handed him a recipe for Ryshcate and he wouldn't have known the difference.

"Yeah, Siri. I remember you, I think we have met once," he said handing me back the datapad. I prepared to call the Force to me to alter his perceptions when he checked the authenticity of the order at a nearby terminal. However, there would be no need. It seemed his fatigue was even keeping him from doing his job properly. "Have a good time," he groaned rubbing his hand over his eyes.

'This might be a little easier if I was alone,' I thought to myself as I walked to the nearby drive. It was clear that he wasn't all that concerned with what his proper duties were, with his failure to authenticate my orders. I laid down my bag of tools and fished a few out. I began tinkering with the system as Keell walked over to sit at his desk, laying his head down upon it.

"Hey," I called to him. "You look awful. Something wrong?"

He looked up at me wearily, looking slightly annoyed. "That bastard Jackar went on Sick Call again, so I had to work two shifts in a row," he snarled. "Probably another case of Hapan-Super-Gonorrhea," he chuckled using a common pirate slang for venereal disease.

I sighed in disgust. Was there nothing these pirates did that didn't involve fighting, sex or spice? He gave me a disapproving scowl. "You know, it might do you some good to get out there and have some fun yourself."

I scoffed at the suggestion. We sat in silence for a few minutes as I tinkered with the drive. "You know," I began, still working. "You should probably go grab yourself a mug of caf before an officer comes in here and decides to try and find an innovative way to wake you up."

He peered at me. "Hmmm…I could really use a cup…"

"Well, I could watch things here for you," I offered as I turned my hydrospanner. "The walk might even wake you up a bit." I could feel him hesitate, I gave him a gentle suggestion using the Force to add power to my words. "You think it's a good idea," I commanded.

"I think it's a good idea," he said standing up. I watched him exit the room before standing and removing my data pad from the tool bag. I walked over to the engineer's communication terminal and plugged in the data pad. I loaded all the information to a burst transmission I would send over the holonet to the Jedi Council and to Master Gallia. Before keying the console to send the message, I went to find a laser welder.

I found one on a nearby workbench and returned to the terminal. After keying the console to send the message, I paused for about ten seconds before I activated the welder. I touched the beam to a bundle of wires at a nearby junction. They lead to the antenna array, severing the connection should prevent the pirates from communicating. Well, until they fixed it anyways. However, by that time, I would be well on my way to Coruscant.

I then returned my attention to the subspace drive. Over the next ten minutes I made it so the ship would need a pretty long stay at a space dock to repair the damage I had done. I was crouched on all fours, buttoning up the panels when I heard a voice behind me.

"I like what I'm seeing," the male voice said approvingly as I felt an open hand slap my behind. I whipped around with fire in my eyes to come face to face with Lodar Daig. I stared at him, making no effort to hide my anger or contempt. "Well, well. What are you doing here?" he asked looking down at his datapad, which I assumed held the crew schedule. "I thought you were due at the hanger by now?"

"Well, sir," I said, making it clear there was no respect in the title. "I had to do a quick repair for Jackar, who is on sick call, before I went to the tug."

"Ummm…" he muttered looking down again. "I don't see that here." He knelt down by the drive looking suspicious while giving me a sideward glance. My mind raced trying to figure out what I would do. By this point he was going to be way too suspicious to attempt a Jedi Mind Trick with any possibility of success.

"What in the Sith-Hells!" he shouted giving me an exasperated stare. When I made no move to answer he quickly drew his blaster. "What did you do?!" he shouted again.

I attempted to portray a confused look, but likely I did not fool him. I could never get my features to hide my thoughts, let alone pretend to have different one. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"What's wrong?!" he repeated. "The drive is in the process of melting down!" He glared at me not sure if the damage done to the drive was an accident or incompetence. He lowered the tip of his blaster, but did not put it back in its' holster.

I slowly reached down for the hydrospanner in my bag. "Let me fix it," I said with the cylinder in my right hand.

"Just stay where you are," he said forcefully while retraining his blaster on me. He turned his attention back to the drive. "And the sensor and command connections to the bridge have been severed!" He no longer needed to look at the drive. My intent was now quite clear. "Stay right where you are!"

He began to fumble with his comlink. He must have been doing something with it prior to his rounds, as he now needed to change the frequency. In his moment of distraction, I acted. I drew the vibroknife from my belt and threw it. The blade buried itself in his left palm after impaling the comlink itself. However, I did hear a series of beeps signaling an emergency, an instant before the comlink was destroyed.

He yowled in pain and squeezed the trigger of the blaster, sending a bolt in my general direction. The shot missed me cleanly as I dived to my right. I rolled coming to my feet and raising my hands in surrender, my disguised lightsaber still in my right hand. "Ok, ok. I give up."

He snarled pulling the knife from his hand, while keeping his blaster trained on me. He did not lower the weapon, if anything it appeared he might be preparing to fire. "Maybe I should just get a little pay back. It's most likely you'll be sucking vacuum for sabotaging the ship. I'll just hand out some justice now."

I lowed my hands to a guard position, which must have looked pretty silly with a hydrospanner in my hands. "I wouldn't do that," I said, trying to be as intimidating as possible.

He laughed from his belly. "Right, you have a good arm, I'll give you that. But, a blaster wins out over a tool any day." I called upon the Force to aid my speed and agility. I knocked the cap disguising my lightsaber off. With the distinctive snaphiss only a Jedi's weapon made, my violet blade sprang to life as the first bolt emerged from his weapon.

I swung my lightsaber in a wide arc knocking away his first shot and the two that followed it. He grunted in shock. I pointed the blade at him menacingly. "Here is your chance to surrender. I have no desire to hurt you," I growled.

He appeared to almost contemplate it for a moment. He even lowered his weapon a bit, but it turned out to be a deception. An instant later he raised it and with quick aim fired again. I charged forward decrease the angle to get around the defense of my blade and parried the bolt. I slashed out and connected with his right arm, which held the blaster, severing it just below the elbow. His lower arm tumbled to the floor still holding the weapon.

Lodar screamed in surprise and pain. I extended my right hand and called his blaster to my grasp. I turned it on him. I flipped the selector switch to stun and squeezed the trigger twice. To my great shock, the blaster did not issue the azure bolts of a stun, but burning red and deadly blaster bolts. His body bucked as the darts burned into his chest. His body twitched once more then became still as he exhaled his last breath.

I gasped in horror. Had my mistake just cost this man his life? I looked down at the selector to confirm its position was set properly. I toggled the switch a few more time before releasing one more shot at a nearby cargo container, a red dart slammed home. The stun setting simply did not work. The weapon could only be fired to kill. I was disgusted the pirates would disable the stun setting of a weapon, one more heinous crime for them to answer for.

Tucking the blaster in my utility belt in case I needed to keep some heads down later, I was about to close down my saber when the doors slid open. Keell entered the room and glanced over at me. He grunted in surprise and the mug of caf he held dropped to the floor.

I stared at him intently. He hesitated, considering what he should do. He looked once to my lightsaber, then back to me before fleeing out the door. I groaned in frustration quickly drawing the blaster and firing three times. I made sure to aim low and one of the bolts caught him in the right thigh, which sent him sprawling. I ran up behind him as he tried to regain his feet and brought the butt of the blaster pistol down forcefully at the base of his skull and he slumped to floor.

Shutting down my lightsaber and clipping it to my belt, I dragged his unconscious body back into engineering and made sure that his injuries were not life threatening before moving to exit. The doors slid open to reveal two more gang officers with their with pistols drawn.

I went for my lightsaber and dove away as the two both fired. The one bolt missed, but the second one clipped my left calf. I yelped in pain as I rolled. I felt as if there was a fire burning in my leg as I stood. I began to wave the blade in large sweeping arcs sending bolts back in the direction of the officers as they kept firing at me.

I limped over to a nearby stack of cargo containers to take cover behind them. The blaster fire pinged in around me as I glanced down at my leg. Satisfied it was going to stay attached for at least the immediate future, I turned my attention back to the fight. I would need to end this quick, before more officers charged down here.

About this time, it occurred to me the drive was likely to give out at any moment. Another complication in a plan that was already going down the fresher. I would need to bake it to the tug, and fast if there was any hope of escaping.

I gathered my strength and jumped up, charging the two men. Not wanting a repeat of the unfortunate outcome with Lodar, I swung my blade at the first man's weapon, which fell to the ground in two pieces and a shower of sparks. He jumped back in surprise, I took the opportunity to lash out with a viscous kick. My foot connected with his abdomen and drove him back two meters where he crashed into a workbench. I heard his head hit the metal and knew he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

I let the momentum of my kick carry me forward as two more shots flew behind me. One was so close, it burned through the seat of my pants and creased the soft flesh of my bottom. I snarled in pain, shock and frustration. I would most likely never hear the end of this wound if the other Padawans found out about it. 'The trip in a cramped fighter cockpit will be a lot less comfortable now too,' I thought, as I turned to face the second man.

He took a few steps back to increase the distance between us to give him a few precious moments to try and come up with a strategy. I did not want to hurt another person if I could avoid it, so I delayed. An instant later, the ship lurched as it decelerated, its sublight drive seizing. The shock of the destabilizing drive sent us to the deck.

I growled as I regained my feet. The man stood looking less confident than he did before. But before I could speak to him he raised his weapon to fire. I charged forward as I saw his eyes look beyond me. I felt a disturbance in the Force and I twisted my body to the right in response. I felt as sharp pain below my left shoulder blade and felt the impact of an unknown object. The force and the attack and the pain it cause sent me lurching forward uncontrollably.

My original plan to subdue the remaining officer was forever changed by the actions of Engineer Keell who had regained consciousness behind me. He had taken his vibroknife and hurled with at me, imbedding the weapon to the hilt in my back. The injury and my momentum carried me forward where my violet blade impaled the officer through the trachea. We both fell to the floor, me landing on my stomach and he on his back. The officer now lay motionless on the ground next to me, the spark of life in his eyes faded away.

I felt my throat tighten and my eyes begin to burn, I recognized the signs of tears wishing to flow from my eyes. 'Concentrate on the task at hand, Padawan,' I heard Adi's voice in my head, repeating a favorite lesson of her's. 'There is always time, often too much time, for reflection after all is said and done.'

While still on my stomach, I pointed the blaster behind me, in the direction of the mechanic and fired five shots in quick succession. Hopefully, the fire caused him to seek cover and allow me a moment to act. I took my hand off my lightsaber, which without the trigger being held down caused the blade to retreat into the handle. I reached back and grasped the hilt of the viborknife protruding out of my back. I took a deep breath and in a swift motion pulled it free.

I cried out in pain, my voice echoed through the room before returning to my ears. I felt blood seeping into the fabric of my blouse. I stumbled to my feet and retrieved my lightsaber, with a few more quick shots as I retreated from the room. Luckily, the hanger was not too far and with a little luck I would make it without further confrontation.

For the most part, luck seemed to be with me. People were beginning to stir from their berths, but in the confusion few questioned me about my injury or what I was doing. Those who did, a simple Force Suggestion lead them to believe I was injured in the engineering accident and that I could get to Sick Bay just fine on my own. I approached the hanger to see the door closed and guards with blaster rifles stationed outside.

I knew the longer I waited, the more chance that my escape attempt would fail. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, using the Force to lessen my pain and revitalize me. I raised the blaster to point it towards them from my hiding place around the corner. I began to loose bolts and charged forward. The blaster emitted a series of beeps signaling its power pack was low. It fired three more times before it was out of power.

My shots sent the guards sprawling. When I was a few meters from the hanger door, I used the Force to propel the blaster from my hand to impact the door's command panel. The doors began to creep apart and I dove through them brining my lightsaber's blade to life. I fended off a few weak shots from the surprised guards as I ran to the tug.

Clipping my lightsaber to my belt, I climbed into the tiny tug. I felt a white-hot pain in my back and grunted feeling the pressure of the seat against my wound. I ran a very abbreviated start-up trying to get my wits about me. I heard blaster bolts smacking against the hull as I engaged the repulsorlifts and moved the ship through the magcon field and into space.

Scanning the anti-collision sensors, I saw there were a number of larger cargo ships in orbit of the planet, but there seemed to be no fighters, gunboats or assault ships. I pushed the little craft as fast as it would go, breaking off the normal approach path, much to the protest of the approach controllers. I turned off the comm unit to prevent distraction. After a few, very long, minutes I brought the tug down near the cave I had hidden the Headhunter in.

Making no effort to power down the tug, I pulled myself from the cockpit. I glanced back to see the pilot's couched stained with my blood. I groaned hoping that the blood gave an exaggerated sense of how badly I was injured. "Pretty unlikely," I muttered to myself as I hobbled over to my fighter.

Between the pain in my leg and back I felt as if I might pass out. I was light headed and my breathing was troubled. I even thought I heard a wheezing sound when I breathed. I climbed to the top of the Z-95 and keyed the access code to raise the canopy. When it had risen, I reached in for the small rescue-medkit behind the seat. I retrieved a pressure bandage and removed it from the package. Pulling my shirt up to expose my bare back, I slapped in against my skin feeling the suction pulling at my wound.

Tears again sprang to my eyes as pain wracked my senses. I took a few more deep breaths and flopped down into the cockpit. I donned my helmet and emergency life-support gear before starting the engines. I quickly checked the ship's systems, all of which appeared to be functioning normally. Finally, I strapped myself into the seat for what I assumed would be a rough ride.

When I had landed the ship there almost eight months ago, I had taken the precaution of entering the preliminary information for a jump to Coruscant into the navacomputer. Now, I keyed in the last couple computations as I pushed the throttle forward and rocketed into Ylesia's atmosphere.

The g-forces pushing me back into my seat, as my ship climbed, were uncomfortable to say the least. My breathing was becoming more troubled and I couldn't catch my breath. It almost felt like there was a red-hot poker in my left lung…

I groaned. "That's what the wheezing sound was," I mumbled to myself. "The knife punctured my lung." I double checked the computations for the jump to Coruscant and turned to the outbound vector before checking my sensors. I tried to lean forward to keep pressure off my back, which caused the burn on my posterior to sting. However, that was a pain I would gladly take over the one caused by my back pressing again the pilot's couch.

My scanning gaze came to rest on a starship closing fast just as the as a distorted voice came across my communit. "Republic fighter, you have violated sovereign Hutt Space. Power down your engines and weapons and prepare to be taken into custody." Glancing at me sensors, I saw a lone star fighter was in a position to head off my escape. Further examination revealed at least four more coming from freighters around the planet.

I double-checked to make sure my shields were up and laser cannons were charged. I tried to keep my voice strong as I keyed my mic, "I am acting on behalf of Republic Intelligence. Any effort to detain me will be met with force."

I could see the fighter more clearly now. I recognized it as Nabooian N-1, albeit a very beat-up one. As we passed head to head I saw green bolts emerge from the nose of his craft. I rolled hard to port causing the shots to miss my fighter. I winced as my left foot pressed the etheric rudder pedal. 'Better try and make my turns to the right,' I thought pushing the stick in that direction.

This dogfight would need to end quickly, lest the other fighters moving to intercept would be on me before I could jump to hyperspace. With the s-foils ninety degrees to the left along my craft's longitudinal-axis, I pulled back as hard as I could to bring myself behind the less maneuverable N-1. I was slammed back against my seat with more than six times the force of gravity.

A strangled scream came from my lips as my vision blurred. I somehow managed to keep pressure on the stick by sheer force of will, as it felt like there was an inferno burning within my chest. My sight was beginning to tunnel as I eased off the stick when the N-1 passed through my target reticule. I squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, sending two tri-bursts of laser fire at the fighter.

The first red darts impacted the fighter's shields, breaking them down. The second set merged at the junction of starboard wing and the hull. The wing split off and the fighter tumbled a few rotations before exploding brilliantly. I screamed again, but nearly no sound came from me as I continued the stressful turn. I leveled the wings when I reestablished myself on the outbound vector. The fighters of the Red Fang Pirates were closing fast. I watched the nav-console's clock countdown.

Trying to throw off any long-range shots the fighters might throw at me, I jammed the stick to the left and stepped down heavily on the right etheric rudder. The ship began a dizzying uncoordinated spiral that would make me a very difficult target, but would not but any pressure on me due to the ship's constant vector of thrust. I saw green coalescent light flash by in the form of shots from the pursuing fighters.

With eight seconds remaining, I leveled the S-foils and made sure I was exactly on course. I scanned the sensors to see the four fighters were within firing range. I could do nothing but hold my course as my heart rose to my throat. "I Jedi knows not fear…" I whispered staring at the nav-console.

The clock read three seconds when I felt the fighter buck as laser fire splashed off the rear shield. I knew there was no way my ship could withstand even a few seconds of punishment, improved shields or not. I wrenched the stick all the way back to perform a tight loop. I glanced down at my sensors, the fighters were labeled: Type Unknown.

I took my eyes from the console and scanned the space around me. The reason the sensors couldn't discern their ship type was that they weren't one type of ship. These fighters were what pilot's hatefully deemed them as Uglies.

Uglies were ships cobbled together from many different pieces of salvaged starfighters. Their nickname not only came from their appeared, which these ships were often far from pretty, it also addressed their uncharacteristic and sloppy flight handling. These particular Uglies seemed to be pieced together from the hulls of N-1's, Trade Federation Droid Fighters and the stars only knew what else.

The loop brought me in on the tails of the four-ship formation. But, just as I got near a good firing position, the ships all banked sharply and flew off in different directions. I had an instant to make a decision. I rolled hard to port and followed the one that seemed to make the cleanest and tightest turn.

My leg protested as I pressed down, but obeyed my command to move the pedal. I reached up with my left hand to dial the inertial compensator up a bit. Like most pilots I flew with mine set at ninety-five percent, which allowed me a better feel of the craft. However, at this juncture, I decided to turn it up to ninety-eight percent. I did this hoping to lessen the strain on my already battered body.

I reached out with the Force as I brought my hang back to the throttle. I could feel the aggression of the pilots as they moved to take up positions behind me in an effort to land a killing shot. I pulled my throttle back to fifty percent of power and the fighter immediately began to slow. The Ugly I was trailing shot out in front of me. My thumb flicked the selector from laser cannons to concussion missiles. A green box appeared on the Heads-Up Display in front of me.

I banked my fighter slightly to place the box over the fleeing Ugly. With the Force, I could feel my enemies closing in on my tail. The box quickly turned from green to yellow to red and a tone came through my helmet. I pressed the trigger twice and send two missiles trailing red flame in the direction of the craft.

A sudden surge of the Force cried out in warning and I yanked my fighter to starboard and slammed the throttle forward. I craned my neck to see green bolts sizzle past, missing me by mere meters. I stopped the roll when I was nearly inverted and pulled back on the stick. My slow speed allowed for a very tight turning-loop as the renewed thrust added a substantial push. I flipped my weapon selector back to laser cannons.

I continued to pull through the turn and saw one of the remaining fighters flying ahead and to my left. I wanted to keep pressure on the stick, but I felt my vision begin to dim. I relaxed the pull on the stick and my vision returned. The pain in my chest was getting worse, it was now taking everything I had just to keep conscious. I also realized, the Ugly had taken the chance to get away from me. Things were getting desperate.

Looking down at my sensors, I found that my missiles had found their mark and there were only two Uglies left to contend with. For the moment anyways, since me sensors also showed nearly a dozen more fighters of varying types launching from the planet and orbiting ships.

I began a series of gentle, low-g yo-yos where I would keep the fighter in a slow series of rolls, but would adjust my attitude to greatly vary my heading. One of the Ugly pilots must have been a rookie, for he allowed himself to get far to close to my flight path. With only slight additional pull on the stick I slid the nose of my fighter to just in front of his flight path.

I squeezed the trigger, sending a stream of cannon blasts in the direction of the Ugly. He realized too late the mistake he had made. Being sure to hit my target, I held the trigger down for several seconds filling the entire area with red darts. I even stepped gently on each rudder pedal, which swung my fighters nose spreading the shots over a wide area. Five bolts stitched the side of the Ugly. I couldn't even tell what came off the craft first as hit erupted in a cloud of plasma.

"Half way there," I mumbled, taking my hand off the throttle to readjust the bandage on my back. Looking to the sensors I found that the destruction of the second craft must have shaken their confidence. Both had banked away from me. One back towards the planet while other was almost sitting on my exit vector. I eased the fighter over and repositioned my throttle hand.

I made the mistake of glancing down to see my hand covered in my own blood. It was so slick with blood that it made the throttle sticky and would likely gum-up the buttons. My flight pattern was erratic and unsteady during this process. The Ugly must have taken this as a sign was damaged, or its pilot anyways, and set up on a head to head pass. I looked up in time to see his plan.

Reaching up, I switched my shield strength to full forward. I noticed my fingers left a print of blood on the console and even dripped onto the secondary instrument panel below it. I tried to shake the cobwebs from my mind; there were more important things to consider at the moment than what my blood was doing once it left my body.

I turned the nose of my fighter so I was heading directly at the nose of the other fighter. I tried to make the turn as sloppy as possible, hoping to lure the other pilot into assuming I would be an easy kill. Reaching out with my senses, I gripped the stick tighter. Feeling the Force surge about and through me, I saw his shots emerge from his cannons before he even fired.

I squeezed the trigger and clamped down on it. A heartbeat later, I snapped into a dizzying starboard barrel roll. My s-foils spun like the blades of a fan, sending most of the shots from my wingtip cannons to miss their mark. However the cannon on the nose send a stream directly in front of my fighter, which slammed into the canopy of the Ugly.

His shots passed between and through the empty space created by the spinning s-foils. The last few impacted my front shield and dissipated to nearly nothing before smacking the nose of the Headhunter. The shots jarred the fighter and burnt some of the paint off, but I believed the damage to be superficial.

The pilot and ship evaporated under my intense fire as I pushed the nose over to avoid colliding with the wreckage. I floated off the seat, but was held in place by my shoulder straps. I felt more blood bubbling from my wounded back in an airy-hiss. I yanked the stick back to take the pressure off my chest and slammed by wounded backside onto the seat. "I just can't seem to win…" I cried, thinking that no matter how I turned the ship it would hurt.

I guided the fighter through the inverted and rolled to the left completing the galaxy's sloppiest immelman. My sensors showed the nearest enemy fighter closing fast and almost a dozen more approaching firing range. In a last ditch effort, I switched to concussion missiles and steered the fighter to place the green targeting box over the Ugly. The ship was growing large in my view screen and the ship began to spew fourth laser fire.

Most of his hasty shots missed, with only one piercing my shields to strike my right s-foil. The box had gone from green to yellow, signifying that the targeting system had not fully locked-on. However, the ship would fly past before a full lock could be obtained. I squeezed the trigger and a missile leapt fourth.

I reached for it with the power of the Force, I put all of my strength behind it I could and shoved it to the right. The missile slammed into the port engine housing and reducing it to charged ions in a brilliant explosion. The fighter tumbled end over end a few times before exploding.

Fearing the coming fighters might cut off my exit vertor, I turned the ship as tight as I could. The force of the turn pressed me against the seat and I felt like my chest was going to cave in. Somehow I found the strength to stay conscious and rolled out straight and level on my jump vector. Hoping I wouldn't need them, but knowing I would, I switched my shields to full rear.

I saw green laser fire streak past as the pursuing craft made desperate long-range shots. I brought the navacomputer back up and the clock on the console began the count down at five seconds. A few lucky shots grazed my rear shields and removed more paint from the Headhunter's hull.

When the clock reached zero, I pulled down on the handle to engage the hyperdrive. The stars elongated around me, and an instant later, I was traveling through a swirling tunnel of light. I slumped back against the chair feeling pain and nausea. The seat was slippery with my blood and I could feel it beginning to pool under me.

I could barely lift my hand to trigger the emergency beacon but managed to activate it. I then reached back to make sure the bandage was covering my wound as best it could. I felt the urge to vomit with all the pain I was feeling and tears were streaming down my cheeks.

With the last of my strength, I attempted to enter a healing trance. I saw and felt a soothing light reaching to embrace me. Like a mother nurturing her child. I felt warmth that drove away the pain. Not knowing if I was about to become one with the Force, my consciousness faded.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is just a normal day at the Jedi Temple until an emergency call is received...

As with almost every other day of my working life, I made it to the  
hanger of the Jedi Temple early. Somehow, I got in just a hair past  
the fifth hour. I grabbed a strong cup of caf, black as a spice-  
miner's ass, and sat down at my desk. I then spent the next two  
hours catching up on paperwork I had been ignoring for the past  
month or so. "The work of a Hanger Chief is never done," I mumbled  
to myself as I tapped away at a datapad.

Finally, I looked up from my desk to stare out the bay to take in a  
very beautiful sunrise that was occasionally dotted by ships as they  
flew past. Even at this early hour, the sky was filled with  
vehicles of all types. There was already a small amount of activity  
in the bay. A Jedi I knew named Heza Rahy was there with a droid  
searching through the parts area looking for some strange epoxy I  
had never heard of.

The droid had a very strange silvery body, which caused me to double  
take when I saw him. But, before I could mull it over too much I  
saw more people enter the bay. "Stang, it's like Coruscant's  
Central Terminal in here this morning," I complained.

With a glare summoned from my bad mood for interrupting my quiet  
time, I recognized all three of the men who entered. They were  
Master Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan, they were escorted by the  
Captain of the No Regrets who's name I was pretty sure was Xanatos.

I watched them move across the bay to the No Regrets and they were  
opening the cargo door when something caught my attention. A  
flashing light on my terminal signaled an incoming message.  
Glancing at the chrono and seeing it was still several minutes  
before seven, I muttered to the light, "I'm not on duty yet. So,  
you're gonna have to wait…"

I turned my head to ignore it and sip my caf when the communit began  
to buzz an alert. In an effort to get to it quickly, I nearly  
dumped my mug over. I swallowed my mouthful of caf with a  
gulp. "Temple Hanger, go 'head," I spoke, keying the transmitter.  
I saw the message had come in over the emergency frequency.

"Temple Hanger, this is C-SAR," came the response of the  
controller. 'Coruscant Search And Rescue,' I thought my heart  
filling with dread. "We are picking up an emergency beacon from a  
starfighter. Registry number JTSF-Q73G32."

I frantically picked up a nearby datapad, this time actually  
knocking my mug off the table sending caf all over the  
place. "Stang!" I swore. I ignored the mess and began to scroll  
through the datapad. I found the correct line and read it to  
myself. "Ship Registry Number JTSF-Q73G32. Z-95MK1 Headhunter.  
Pilot: Siri Tachi. Callsign: Saber 22."

A groan, which started in the pit of my guts, emerged from my  
mouth. Even though I didn't know the blonde kid well, she seemed  
nice enough. And I certainly hoped she was ok, I wasn't going to  
have one of my Jedi, let alone a pilot, buy the farm on my watch!  
The controller continued, "Ship is not responding to hails.  
Patching you through to rescue shuttle."

I heard the comm click several times. Not waiting for the rescue  
shuttle to talk to me, I keyed the mic. "Saber 22, Temple Hanger.  
Respond, over," I said hoping a familiar voice might get her to  
talk. I repeated the call several times with no response.

"Temple, Rescue 407. I have the fighter in sight," the shuttle  
pilot's voice broke in. "Systems seem to be running. However, I  
can see no movement by the pilot. Pilot is unresponsive to visual  
signals and comm transmissions."

In frustration I slammed my palm down on the alarm. The claxon  
began to wail in the bay. "Clear the hanger deck," I  
ordered. "Incoming Emergency Vessel! I repeat, Incoming Emergency  
Vessel!" I watched as techs seemed to shake off their morning  
sleepiness and began moving all matter of equipment to the edges of  
the bay, from cargo containers to repulsor sleds to airspeeders.

"Jedi Temple, Couruscant SAR," the controller spoke. "Request  
instructions."

I probably should have notified the council and healers first to  
make sure we were ready for this. But, it was my call as Hanger  
Chief. And I wasn't going to leave one of my kids out there in  
someone else's hands. "SAR, Temple. We are clearing the hanger  
now. Have Rescue 407 tow the headhunter here. We'll have med teams  
standing by."

"Roger, Temple," he responded. "Rescue 407, take craft in tow.  
Proceed max speed to Jedi Temple Hanger. Traffic will be cleared by  
Coruscant Control." I glanced out of the hanger and a moment later  
saw the streams of ships breaking their normal flight paths to clear  
the airspace above us.

There was a rush of movement outside my office door. I saw Qui-Gon  
and Obi-Wan stop a meter away, looking into the room in curiosity  
and concern. I had no time to offer them any explanation. A girl's  
life hung in the balance and I needed to do my job.

I spun the dial on the terminal to change to the proper  
channel. "Comm Room, Hanger here," I began. Once I got a response  
I spat out as fast as I could, "Advise Medical that we have an  
emergency inbound. We need a team in here NOW!"

The comm officer gave his compliance and I added, "Also advise the  
Council that Siri Tachi's Headhunter has arrived in system, but she  
is not responding." I then turned the channel back before the comm  
officer could respond. I keyed the transmitter. "Saber 22, if you  
can hear me but can't respond make a signal to the rescue shuttle."

In my excitement to assure that they understood the urgency of the  
situation, voice must have carried beyond my door. "Master," I  
heard Obi-Wan say in a hushed tone. "Siri…" His voice conveyed a  
tone of concern about his fellow Padawan.

Qui-Gon's demeanor of calm even seemed a bit shaken from what little  
I could tell. I watched him pull out his comlink. With a few quick  
flicks of his thumb, he keyed it to transmit when the link  
opened. "Adi, it's Qui-Gon. You should come to the hanger  
immediately." His tone changed to become softer. "It's Siri."

With that, the two Jedi moved away from my office and headed off  
with Xanatos, Heza Rahy and his droid whom had come over to  
investigate the commotion. It was time to turn my attention back to  
where it belonged. After years of seeing medics and rescue  
personnel work, I had learned they always tried to talk to their  
patient.

"Damn it!" I swore after a minute. If she had given a signal, the  
shuttle would have told us. I repeated the message several more  
times with the same result. I slammed my fist against the terminal  
and shouted into the mic. "Saber 22, RESPOND! Rock your wings!  
Wave! Click your mic! Anything!"

My breath was coming heavy and I barely heard an audible; click,  
click on the channel. I looked up, not sure I should believe my  
ears. "Saber 22, if that was you, give me another double-click on  
the mic." Click, click, click came across the channel. It was  
three, but I was sure it was her.

"Woohoo!" I shouted before keying the mic again to speak to  
her. "Just hang in there, 22. You're on your way back to us."  
Click, click, click, click, click, was the only response.

I turned the dial on my terminal again. "Comm, Hanger. We have  
signs of life from the pilot. Where in the Sith-Hells is that Med  
Team?!" I was sure that set a fire under his ass and I turned back  
to the rescue frequency.

A moment later I heard the comm officer's voice come across the  
general address system for the entire Temple. "Medical Emergency.  
Clear corridors from Hanger to the Medical Bay. Repeat. Clear  
corridors from Hanger to the Medical Bay. Medical Emergency."

"Rescue 407, ETA?" I asked through the comm.

"ETA Temple Hanger, three minutes," the pilot responded.

I ran out into the hanger's main bay. "Look alive people! ETA on  
rescue shuttle is three minutes!" I shouted. I kicked a nearby  
stack of containers. "We only have a couple minutes to move this  
junk, so let's do it!" Qui-Gon and the others with him jumped in  
to. The droid with Knight Rahy was invaluable, without any  
hesitation he jumped in to aid in moving everything. His strength  
made it possible for him to clear an area that would have taken five  
of my men a comparable amount of time. It was not long before the  
area was cleared and I saw a flash of movement at the entrance.

A robed figure came running through the door. The headdress and  
distinctive features identified her as Council Member Adi Gallia.  
Master Jinn went quickly over to greet her, speaking to her in a  
soft voice before bringing her over to stand with Obi-Wan, Xanatos,  
Rahy and the droid.

Two minutes later, a group of four medics led by a Jedi Master  
entered the hanger at a full run. They were carrying a repulsor  
stretcher and bags of medical supplies. I recognized the Master as  
Takra Claw, the Temple's Chief Healer. He was an imposing figure,  
with four arms and covered in blue fur like the rest of his species.

I saw him glance over at Qui-Gon as he motioned his people to wait  
by the door, trying to stay out of the way. I nodded to him, he  
responded with a soft, disarming nod. You didn't need to be a Jedi  
to feel the concern of everyone in the bay. Everyone wanted our  
pilot to be ok.

"Listen up," I shouted once I was sure the bay was more than clear  
enough to bring in the fighter and shuttle without delay. "The  
Medics are in charge. I know you're all concerned. But, our job  
here is done now. Stay out of their way and make their job easier.  
If they need your help, they'll ask for it." The surrounding techs  
all nodded, worry clearly etching their faces.

I walked over to two of my senior techs. "You two, pop the  
cockpit. Get it off ASAP, break the damn thing if you need to."  
Both nodded at me. 'Good men,' I thought. 'Who know their jobs and  
how to do it.'

"Then for Force's-sake get out of the way and let the medics do  
their jobs. Got it?" I asked them tersely.

"Got it," they said in unison before running off to get tools and a  
boarding staircase.

I glanced back to the bay door as I heard the whine of repulsor  
lifts. I saw the white and red markings on the shuttle, signifying  
it as a rescue vehicle. A few meters behind it was the headhunter.  
The shuttle pilot made speed his first priority, dragging the  
headhunter on its belly to a quick, but gentle stop. In a flash,  
the techs were rushing forward armed with tools and the boarding  
ladder.

The fighter showed no sign of significant damage, just a few places  
where the paint had been scorched off by laser fire. I ran over to  
fighter as it settled. Just because my men needed to stay back,  
there was no way I was going to. I would help with the canopy or  
help the Medics. Whatever was needed.

The canopy was quickly raised, it seemed that whatever had happened  
to Siri didn't hurt the ship or its systems. Once it was up, the  
techs were off the ladder and I patted them each on the back as they  
ran down the stairs to the area where the rest of techs were  
waiting. The blue-furred Jedi Master, rushed up the stairs with a  
pair of Medics. The worry shone like stars in his yellow eyes. He  
reached his four arms into the cockpit. "It's all right, Cub," I  
heard him say. "You'll be all right…"

With frantic gestures, he motioned his Medics to get ready to move  
her. I stood holding the stairs immediately under them, not sure  
what else I could do. I looked over at the two Medics by the  
stretcher they had brought to the bottom of the stairs. I heard the  
medics count off, and at three, they lifted. I saw the slack body  
of the girl being guided out.

She was drenched in blood from chest to knees. Her tunic was  
sopping with it, so much that when they moved her, her shirt shifted  
and a cascade of blood poured fourth. It rained on the steps and  
drenched my hair and shoulders. I heard gasps echo through the  
silent hanger. The blood smelled stale and coppery.

They whisked her down the stairs and laid her flat on her stomach on  
the gurney. They peeled off her helmet and gear. I couldn't even  
pay attention to what the healer was doing. All I could focus on  
was how pale her face was. She looked like a ghost.

Master Adi Gallia took a step forward raising a hand to her mouth.  
Qui-Gon gently reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her  
shoulder. She took no further steps forward but paled visibly with  
concern as she realized how badly her Padawan was injured. Her  
pallor matched that of her Padawan's.

After a moment, they picked up the gurney and rushed her from the  
bay, Master Gallia and the others following silently in her wake.  
Almost automatically, I walked up the boarding stairs. What I saw  
in that cockpit made my heart break. The cockpit was covered in  
blood, the stick, the throttle, nav and comm switches, but, most of  
all, the seat.

Staring at the ghastly sight I didn't know what to think or feel.  
Then it came to me. I felt guilt. I felt frustration. Most of  
all, I felt that I had failed Siri Tachi when she needed someone the  
most.

"Get this hunk of junk outta the way!" I shouted to the techs as I  
stormed off into my office and slammed the door behind me.


End file.
